The Time in the World
by three-days-late
Summary: AU. When Alfred builds a time machine, he and Arthur are accidentally flung into the future. There they are horrified to discover that the two of them are not only together but happily so. In order to go home and set the future right, they decide to break-up their future selves, but is that really what either of them want?


**This was written for the kink meme ages ago for the prompt: _Human Gakuen!AU! Alfred and Arthur are a constantly bickering duo, unable to realize their feelings for the other._ _Meanwhile, in the future, Alfred and Arthur, while they still bicker, are very much in love. Somehow it ends up they 'meet' their counterparts/'significant other'._**

 **And for some reason I never got around to deanoning it until now, even though it was one of my more favorite things I've written for the kink meme.**

 **Anyway, enjoy.**

* * *

Alfred coughed as the dust started to settle. That was his most epic explosion yet! It might have even taken out most of the science lab's windows! Before the pride of at least accomplishing this, as it seemed his time machine had failed once again, settled in, he felt a forceful punch to his shoulder and a sharp slap to his head.

"Look what your stupidity has done now!" a harsh whisper sounded in his ear, "You probably took out all the windows with that blast!"

Of course, how could he have forgotten that Arthur Kirkland, student council president, former best friend, and all around busy body, had been 'supervising,' by which he meant bugging Alfred, his project?

"Relax Art," Alfred responded as he shoved him away, "It's probably not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Arthur snapped and shoved him back, "It doesn't even look like the science lab anymore!"

The dust had cleared enough for them to have a good look around and indeed it did not look like the old science lab that the principal agreed to let Alfred use after school as long as he had "proper supervision," but not in a bad way. The lab they were in was bigger, newer, and cleaner, with all sorts of equipment, both big and small, only half of which Alfred knew the function of, scattered throughout tit. This was a professional lab, not some rinky-dink school one, which only led to the obvious questions of where they were and how they got there.

"Arthur! Are you okay?" a panicked, yet strangely familiar voice shouted from the other side of the lab.

"Oh yes, now you care," Arthur rolled his eyes, "A bit late for that is it not?"

Alfred scowled, "That wasn't me dude."

"Of course it was you idiot! Unless you're telling me that someone else with your voice was talking?"

"I'm alright," another familiar voice shouted, "Honestly Alfred, why must you always cause an explosion?"

Alfred and Arthur simultaneously blinked at each other before they peeked out over the box of lab equipment they were crouched behind. On the other side of the room, an older Alfred, in his early twenties form the looks of it, was helping up an older Arthur. When older-Arthur stumbled in an attempt to regain his footing, older-Alfred caught and held him.

"Are you sure? You're looking a bit tipsy," older-Alfred grinned, "Or maybe I'm just making you swoon?"

"Git," older-Arthur whacked his shoulder, but unlike younger-Arthur's hits, it was friendly and playful.

Older-Alfred chuckled as he let go of him and went to check his apparatus.

"Well that's weird," Alfred shrugged as Arthur hit him again.

"What the hell's going on here? Where are we? Who are they? What did you do?"

"It's obvious isn't it?" his grin was smug as he explained, "My time machine worked. We're in the future, and that's future you and future me."

"But that can't be us; we're getting along…sort of."

"I know, that's why I said it was weird, but you can't deny the evidence. They look like us, except older, sound like us, except older, and aside from the getting along thing, they act like us."

"Except older?"Arthur groaned as future-Alfred started speaking.

"I thought for sure it would work this time," he said as he flipped through some notes.

"It's a time machine," future-Arthur rolled his eyes, "It's not supposed to work.

"Yes but _this_ time…"

"Looks like you'll always be a nagging pain in my ass trying to bring me down," Alfred sighed, "Haven't you found someone else to annoy yet?

"You…" Arthur raised his fist, but before he could do or say anything else, something unexpected happened.

Future-Arthur took the three steps separating him and future-Alfred, and lightly touched his cheek. Future-Alfred turned his face towards him as future-Arthur leaned up and stole a kiss from his lips.

"Knowing you, you're bound to do the ridiculously impossible and actually get it someday, but we're running late this morning."

"I guess you're right," he leaned in for a kiss of his own, this one lasting longer, and intertwined their fingers, "C'mon, I'll make you breakfast."

"You've been working so hard, I figured you could rest and I would make breakfast…"

Future-Alfred laughed, "Sweetheart, I think we've had enough explosions for today."

Alfred and Arthur ducked behind the box as their future counterparts walked past them to the exit hand in hand. The younger versions gagged.

"I'm going to be sick," Arthur moaned as he rubbed his temples, "I had _goals,_ I had _dreams_. I was going to move back to England, become a famous writer, travel the world… instead I'm tied down to _you_ of all people, probably living pay-check to pay-check in some run-down apartment, working as a sales clerk at Target to make ends meet…"

"But, I and he and you and _they_ ," Alfred frantically pointed at the doorway their future-versions had walked through, "But, but I'm not gay!" he eventually settled on.

"You very obviously are!" Arthur snapped, "Or at least, you have no problem kissing me- kissing men."

"But I'm not!" he insisted, "I, I like girls… you must have infected me with your gayness."

"Homosexuality is not a disease!" he shouted as he smacked him.

"This must be some horrible, bastardization of the future," Alfred decided, "That can happen with time travel, in theory. Us coming here must have caused it."

"So, how do we fix it?" Arthur asked, willing to drop the gay-debate in favor of finding a way out of this future, "I don't think us simply going back, even if you could get us there, is going to fix anything."

"No, it wouldn't," their silence filled the room for a moment, the only sound the various beeps and buzzing noises from the lab equipment.

"We need to stop this from happening," Alfred decided, "We need to find out how _this_ happened so when we go back, we can stop it."

"I suppose, we could just ask our future elves what went wrong. Disguising ourselves _as_ ourselves shouldn't be too difficult. But even after we know, how will we get back?"

Alfred pondered that for a moment, "maybe, if we set the timeline right again? You know, break us up in this future, and we should be sent back to our normal time."

"Yes," Arthur nodded, "that makes sense."

They both stood up, being extra careful not to touch each other as they did so, and followed themselves out of the lab to face their future.

* * *

Not only were future-Alfred and Arthur together, they lived in the same apartment just above the lab. Alfred apparently worked as a researcher for a commercial lab on one side of town while Arthur worked at a publishing firm on the other. They had plans today to meet up for lunch, which the other Alfred and Arthur overheard while hiding in the bushes, trying not to gag or touch as they watched themselves kiss each other goodbye.

Breaking into the apartment was easy; Arthur, it seemed, would always and forever hide a spare key just above the doorway. They were not, however, prepared for what they would find once they got inside.

One bathroom, one bedroom, _one bed_. Arthur tried to repress all of the images of what their future selves probably _did_ on that bed as he made a beeline for the wardrobe. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Alfred shudder when he saw the bed on his way to raiding the closet.

"Do you remember what I was wearing?" he asked Arthur, who was busy comparing ties.

" _You_ were supposed to pay attention to what you were wearing," Arthur reminded him as he selected a red and blue striped tie, similar to what his older self wore to work that day, and started browsing through the shirts.

"I _know_ I was wearing shirt, pants, shoes," he retorted as he started tossing shirts on the bed, "I just… can't find them in here."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he pulled out a white shirt and black slacks, one of several, he noticed, and lay them neatly on the bed before turning to the mess that was future-Alfred's closet.

"Your shirt was blue," he crossed his arms as he watched Alfred dig through piles of multi-color shirts; "your pants were black. If you had any sense of organization whatsoever, you wouldn't be having these problems now."

Alfred grumbled something under his breath as he pulled out a blue shirt from the pile. It was a shade lighter than what he needed and wrinkled as opposed to future-Alfred's perfectly ironed (by future-Arthur, no doubt) one, but he deemed it close enough and tossed it on the bed.

"Don't make such a mess!" Arthur snapped as he started unbuttoning his shirt, "It has to be like we were never here!"

"Nag, nag, nag," Alfred taunted as started digging through the pile of pants, "Who are you, my wife?"

They both froze at the comment, same panicked thought running through their minds: _we weren't wearing_ wedding rings _were we?_

Arthur shook that ridiculous notion off, a slight blush creeping on his face as e continued taking off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Arthur turned, startled, and saw Alfred standing there with a wrinkled pair of black pants, eyes averted and cheeks tinged with pink.

"Changing," he raised an eyebrow, "That's part of the plan, remember?"

"Y-Yeah, well," he scowled as his blush deepened, "Can't you change in the bathroom or something?"

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," Arthur shrugged as he turned back around, "Look away if it embarrasses you."

Alfred muttered incoherently but Arthur heard nothing more out of him but the shuffling of clothes, indicating he was getting changed as well.

Arthur was glad to discover that the clothes fit him reasonably well. His shirt sleeves needed an extra roll at the cuffs, he belt needed to be tightened a few extra notches, and his shoes, when he pulled them out from the bottom of the wardrobe, were a tad big, but it was relatively unnoticeable. Besides, it was good to know he still had some growing left in him.

"Well that's done," he said as he turned around only to be met with a shoe almost hitting him in the head.

"I'm not done yet!" Alfred shouted, "Look away!"

"I've seen you in swim trunks before," Arthur rolled his eyes; "It's no different to see you in boxers."

"It's embarrassing!" he insisted, face getting redder with each passing moment, "I turned away for you!"

"That was your choice," the other shoe swiftly followed.

"Stop ogling me and look away!"

"I'm not _ogling_ you," Arthur's cheeks were almost as red as Alfred's as he turned back around, "Fine," he crossed his arms over his chest, "Who would want to look at _you_ anyway?"

Alfred responded by tossing his school uniform at Arthur's head.

"Oh yes, very mature."

"Just stay facing that way until I'm done, m'kay?"

Arthur bundled up the uniform and tossed it on the bed as he looked around his side of the room.

He could see a lot of himself in the room, in the embroidered Union Flag pillow at the head of the bed, the collection the Doctor Who DVDs and Shakespeare on the bookshelf, the punk rock CDs piled on top of a chair, the knitting supplies beside it, and in the mountains of books on the nightstand. There was also a lot of Alfred in it as well, in the American flag blanket at the foot of the bed, the horrible action and horror films on the shelves, the comic books and video games on top of the television, and the science journals piled neatly on the floor.

Rather than clash, as would be expected of their belongings, they blended together, giving the room a homier feel than any group of possessions would have by themselves. It made Arthur feel something in the pit of his stomach, something he'd rather not talk about, but it grew in intensity the more he looked around.

His eyes eventually landed on the picture on the nightstand. It was of him and Alfred, future him and Alfred, on a picnic in a park that Arthur was quite familiar with; it was where he first met Alfred years ago and, more recently, it was where they had their falling out. The Arthur and Alfred in the picture, however, had none of these bitter memories on their faces. Alfred was laughing, one hand wrapped around Arthur's waist, the other around his shoulders, all his focus on the man in his arms. Arthur was pushing him away, scowling at the camera, but he could see the secret smile on his lips, could tell he was actually leaning into Alfred's touch. This Arthur was happy, glowing with excitement and adoration for his partner.

That feeling grew to almost unbearable levels, forcing Arthur to turn away from the picture as his Alfred, present Alfred who hated him, shouted, "Art, I think we have a problem…"

Alfred's clothes didn't fit him nearly as well as Arthur's did. The shirt and pants were several sizes too big, and he hadn't even bothered with shoes. It wasn't fair; Alfred was already taller than Arthur and from the looks of it, he still had a lot of growing to do.

"Idiot," Arthur scowled, "Couldn't you find something that actually fit?"

"Dude, you wanna go through the piles?"

Arthur stared at the pile of dress shirts at the bottom of the closet. He picked through them, finding mostly large until he managed to find one that was only medium and handed it to Alfred.

"It's yellow," he noticed, "I was wearing blue."

"So just tell me you spilled coffee on it or something and had to change. Don't worry, with your table manners I'll believe it," Arthur tossed a smaller, slightly stained pair of pants at him, "These shoes are too big. You'll have to wear your own and hope I don't notice."

"S'not like you notice anything about me anyway," Alfred muttered as he started unbuttoning his shirt again. He stopped to glare at Arthur until he turned around to give him privacy.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean anyway?" Arthur said with a sigh, annoyance clear in every word.

"Nothing."

Arthur glared at the wall, trying to avoid looking at another picture of future-him and Alfred looking happy hanging next to him. This time they were at the beach with a group of people, all of them far too cheerful for Arthur's liking.

"Okay done."

Arthur turned back around. The clothes fit better, but now Alfred had skipped a few buttons in his shirt, making it noticeably crooked.

"Honestly, how you get by at all is a mystery to me," Arthur said as he unbuttoned Alfred's shirt and rebuttoned it correctly this time. "There," he stepped back once he was finished, but Alfred had found the picture on the nightstand and was staring at that instead.

"You have a nice smile," he noticed, a small one of his own gracing his lips, "You don't smile that much anymore…"

That feeling returned in full force, so Arthur shot back, "I don't smile when you're around."

The smile fell from Alfred's face and he almost looked sad, but Arthur must have imagined that as not a half second later it was replaced by his usual look of hatred. "Let's get going," he announced as he pushed his way out the bedroom door.

Arthur spared one last look at the picture and followed without another word.

* * *

Alfred passed the time by picking at the buttons on his shirt cuffs as he waited for future-Arthur. He wasn't kept waiting long before he heard a confused "Alfred?" behind him.

"Hey Arthur," he smiled as pleasantly as he could manage, "What took you so long?"

"I thought, we were meeting at our usual café. Why are you here?"

"I, uh, wanted to surprise you," he waved his hands in front of him, "Surprised? Anyway, I figured we would try someplace new."

"Well there is a new tea shop around the corner I've wanted to try," Alfred shuddered but didn't protest. Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked him over, "Isn't that my shirt? Where's yours?"

"I, you know, spilled coffee on it. This one was in my pile of clothes so I kinda just grabbed it, uh, sorry?"

"It's quite alright, you lend me your shirts often enough," he stepped forward and started playing with the shirt collar as Alfred to suck in a breath, "I'm surprised it fits you. Have you gotten shorter?"

Alfred laughed a little too loud, "Maybe you've just finally reached an adult size."

"Git," he said, with none of the malice Alfred was used to, and stepped away, "Well, let's get going."

* * *

Arthur fretted nervously as we waited for future-Alfred, every what-if imaginable running through his mind.

"Arthur," he jumped as Alfred hugged him from behind, "I thought we were meeting there. Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yes, he recovered from his initial shock of physical contact with Alfred and gently pushed him away, "I just felt like walking with you today."

"O-oh, I see," a dusting of pink coated his cheeks as he scratched the back of his head, his soft smile morphing into a smirk, "did you miss me that much, darling?"

"Don't be a prat," Arthur huffed and looked away, "I'm hungry. Can we get going?"

"Of course," Alfred grabbed his hand and led him down the street.

* * *

"Is everything alright?" Arthur suddenly asked, startling Alfred out of his stupor.

"Everything's great," he gave him a smile and a thumbs up, "Why?"

"It's just," Arthur's hand fell limp at his side, "nothing, you're quiet is all."

"Oh," of course he'd been quiet. Time had been good to Arthur, developed most of his more childish features so that he actually looked and acted more like the proper gentleman teen-Arthur pretended to be, but still hung on to that bit of mystery that Alfred always liked about him. Compare this to Alfred, who was still only a teenager. He still didn't know how to talk to _teenage_ Arthur without teasing him or looking like an idiot, how was he supposed to do that with an older, more mature Arthur? Not to mention he still had to figure out how to get this Arthur to tell him how they got together _and_ somehow break—up with him without ruining his no doubt stellar hero image. So yeah, he'd decided to stay quiet, but that was very unlike him, and it seemed Arthur noticed, "I was just thinking."

"About," Arthur's hand twitched as he visibly swallowed, "About what we were talking about last night?"

"Uh, yeah. That."

"I, I see," he clenched his hand into a fist and they fell into silence once more.

* * *

Alfred was keeping up a steady stream of words as they walked, talking about people he'd never heard of and events he couldn't remember, needing little to no input from Arthur, and that suited him just fine. It gave him the opportunity to appreciate just how much Alfred had matured, or will mature. Time travel made tenses so confusing.

Not completely matured, he still talked too loud and too fast, retained his childish excitement for the things that interested him, and there was still a playful glint in his eye, but still, Arthur had to admit, he had grown. Aside from the extra height, Alfred's muscles were fuller and more toned. His face was less round, his eyes had a spark of actual intelligence behind them, his smile was bigger and brighter than ever, and he had a more confident air about him, if that was even possible. The gangly, awkward teenager Arthur knew was gone. Here stood a man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, and right now that was apparently to talk Arthur's ear off.

"…So I figured he'd back off after that, but, well, you know Ivan," Arthur didn't, but he nodded and pretended to, "So he came in all 'Jones I'll teach you the real meaning of advanced particle acceleration as it's applied to thermodynamic engineering.' And, well, I couldn't just let him to _that_ ; you know how I am Honey-bun-"Arthur stiffened noticeably at the pet name, "Something wrong, Cupcake?"

"Did you just refer to me using the phrases Honey-bun and Cupcake?"

"Of course, Sugar Bear!" Alfred's smile grew, "You love it when I use pet names like that!"

Arthur froze. While taking in all of Alfred's more obvious changes, he hadn't considered that he could have changed as well. Maybe future-Arthur had grown past the embarrassment of being called such sickeningly sweet names by someone he lo- someone he liked, "Oh, yes, right, carry on."

Alfred's grin was almost mischievous as he continued his rambling.

* * *

"Do you remember how we met?" Alfred asked when they had ordered their drinks and sat down at the table right by the window. After agonizing over it the whole way there, he decided to just be blunt and ask him outright.

"In the park, when you were four and I was five. You threw sand in my eldest brother's eyes after he pushed me down the slide. Why?"

"Just wondering. Do you remember how we got together?"

"And you call me old. It looks like your memory is the one that's slipping if you're forgetting that."

"I'm feeling nostalgic," Alfred kept his smile pleasant, "Humor me."

Arthur took a long sip from his tea before he continued, "I'm not sure what you're planning, but I'll play along for now. It was during my senior year…"

* * *

"So, how was your day, Muffinlumps?" Alfred thought to ask after they had started eating.

"Oh, you know," he shrugged, "Alright I guess."

"Lovino give you any problems?"

Arthur shrugged again and tried to remain neutral, "No more than usual. Hey Alfred, I was wondering if you remembered how we started dating."

"Oh? This a test?" he chuckled as he took a sip of his soda, "Don't worry, Sweet-pea, I won't forget our anniversary again."

"Just making sure you haven't forgotten something of that much importance," Arthur pouted and took a bite out of his sandwich.

"Of course I remember, Snoogle-doogle," he leaned back and, after taking a few more sips, began, "I was a junior at the time…"

"You were starting to be nice to me again," Arthur sighed, "or nicer to me, you were quite the prick throughout most of high school. One day you asked me to meet you on the roof after school, and I was curious enough to go along with it."

"After years of struggling with my feelings for you," Alfred said, "I finally decided to do something about it. I had it all planned out perfectly and everything and asked you to meet me in the gym before classes."

"I'm not sure what I was expecting," Arthur said, "but it certainly wasn't the picnic you had set up. You went through the trouble of getting all of my favorite foods, even the one's you think are weird or gross, and even attempted to make tea for me. You got the Gardening Club to line the roof with roses for a more 'authentic English touch,' although I still for the life of me have no idea what you meant by that."

"I had everyone in the school there," Alfred said, "ready to shout 'surprise' when you came in, and you were, surprised I mean. I had the light guys rig a spotlight that shone on you to whole time. When you got to the center of the gym, right on the circle in the center, another shone on me, like we were the only two people in the crowded room. Symbolism, you know? I know you like that kind of thing."

"Part way through our meal," Arthur said, "you interrupted me and, and confessed to me, I suppose. Said you know you were acting like a monumental prick – I am paraphrasing a little here – but you were just confused or some rot, and now you had it all figured out. You said, that you'd been in love with me for the longest time and pleaded that I gave you a chance, even though you didn't deserve it. To this day I still cannot figure out why, but I did. I gave you that chance."

"And I walked over to you," Alfred said, "and I was all, 'Babe, I know we haven't seen eye to eye in the past, but my love for you is like the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. I love you Babe, need you in my life.' You swooned a bit, but I caught you, so no problems there, and when I asked for an answer you threw your arms around me and kissed me so passionately that I almost missed the velociraptor that burst through the wall just then and-"

"There wasn't a raptor there!" Arthur slammed his hand on the table, "Don't lie about these things!"

"How would you know?" Alfred, much calmer than Arthur ever knew him to be, took a sip of soda, "It's not like it's happened to you yet, has it?"

"W-what are you talking about?" he couldn't have realized just who he was, could he? This was _Alfred Jones_ , the oblivious dolt who wouldn't notice if his own head was replaced with a pineapple. Was it even possible that he figured it out?

"So my time machine did work?" Alfred placed his soda on the table and leaned forward, examining Arthur who instinctively leaned away, "Not in the way I expected. I mean, _I_ was the one who was supposed to do the traveling, unless, oh! Was I working on it before, when you left?" Arthur gave him a weak nod, wondering where he went wrong, where he messed up so bad that _Alfred_ had figured everything out. Alfred, however, continued to be oblivious to his inner turmoil and continued on, full of excitement, "Awesome, then we probably set up some kind of temporal time loop between our two machines. I came with you right? Then I could ask me what formula I used, and from there figure out how to do a straight time jump, unless we used the _same_ formula and that's what created the loop-"

"You're not supposed to figure out it was me!" Arthur slammed a fist on the table, causing some of the café's patrons to look their way before going about their own business, "How, how did you figure it out?"

"Ah, sorry!" Alfred at least looked a little embarrassed, "I got a bit caught up in my excitement. I'm working on it, I promise, but well, uh, as for what gave you away…" Alfred took Arthur's hands, which until then were clenched around a napkin on the table, into his own and gently rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles.

A soft smile was on his lips as he told him, "About a year ago, Arthur was helping me in the lab. Something went wrong; I got distracted and I think I put too much potassium in one beaker or something, and it exploded. Nothing too bad, but his hand cut up pretty bad – he couldn't write for a week, and his publisher almost killed me because of it," his eyes grew distant as he remembered, "He said, later, that his hand got hurt only because he was trying to stop the glass from hitting _me_ ," his grip on Arthur's hands tightened by a fraction as he cleared his throat, "But, yeah, he still has a scar," Alfred ran his thumb along the side of Arthur's left hand, "right here. I noticed it wasn't there when I was holding it before. That, and there's no way I could have gotten away with the pet names without getting stabbed and Lovino is our plumber, not a co-worker, although those were mostly teasing."

The amount of love and adoration in Alfred's gaze that was directed at _him_ , at _Arthur_ , was impossible to miss. That feeling he got from the bedroom was back, and this time Arthur was able to identify it as longing; he _wanted_ this future, wanted this Alfred who loved him and cared for him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Instead he was stuck with an Alfred who hated him, who refused to speak to him unless it was in insults and sarcasm. Tears began building up in Arthur's eyes, but he successfully held them back, determined not to cry in front of any Alfred no matter what.

"I'm sorry," Alfred lifted Arthur's hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on each, "I'm not the easiest high schooler to deal with. During that time I was confused, about a lot of things, and it took me a while to sort through my emotions," he smiled, small, bashful, and sincere, "I'll tell you all of this later, of course, but I figured you deserve to hear it now too. You remember that day in the park?"

How could he forget? It was the worst day of his life. When Alfred's new 'friends' that flocked to him freshman year after he'd one all those super special science awards forced him to make a choice: them, with whom he had to hide his interest in video games and comics ( _really Alfred, you waste your time with that garbage?_ He'd overheard them saying more than once) and the more annoying aspects of his personality in exchange for their adoration and friendship, or his literary, gay, student council best friend Arthur. Alfred had chosen them, leaving Arthur alone and heartbroken, vowing to never again trust anyone, especially Alfred Fucking Jones, with his heart.

In response to Alfred's question, Arthur simply nodded.

"That is my biggest regret. When I finally realized my mistake, I begged, pleaded with you to give me a chance I didn't deserve. And, beyond all hope and my expectations, for whatever reason, you did," Alfred looked right into his eyes, and Arthur was taken aback by the sheer intensity of the emotions in them, "Thank you for giving me that chance."

"Idiot," Arthur looked away and tried to reclaim his hands, but Alfred wouldn't let him, "I haven't done anything yet."

"But you will," Alfred leaned across the table and have him a soft but assured kiss on his cheek, "And for that, I can't thank you enough."

* * *

Alfred was silent as he contemplated what Arthur told him. According to his story, he, Alfred, was completely responsible for everything this future is. Well, that problem was easily solved. All he had to do was _not_ ask Arthur out, and this future would never happen.

But was that what he wanted? Did he, Alfred Jones, truly not want to some day in the future end up with Arthur Kirkland, the person who quite possibly knew him better than anyone else? Or was that just what his friends wanted? His friends, who told him that by hanging out with the gay student council kid, he would no longer be the school hero, who, through his pursuit of scientific achievements had landed their school an actual budget to work with, not only benefiting the science department, but _every_ department, club, class, you name it, they now had money. As Alfred was starting to find out, what his friends wanted wasn't what _he_ wanted. Did he hate Arthur because he truly hated him, or only because his friends said he had to?

"Arthur," his voice squeaked. Alfred cleared his throat as Arthur looked up from where he was staring at his tea, "I, uh," he had to break up with him. It was the only way for him to get home, wasn't it? He just had to man up and do it.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Arthur interrupted, one hand going into his jacket pocket as he sipped tea with the other, "The marriage talk last night I mean."

Marriage talk? _Marriage talk?_ He and Arthur were talking _marriage_? He had gotten _that serious_ with Arthur?

"I wasn't, I didn't mean to pressure you by it or anything," Arthur shrugged, trying to act nonchalant and failing, "I just, I mean with it legal now and everything it crossed my mind a bit, but it's clearly not something you want, and that's fine. Where we are is fine," he fidgeted and averted his gaze, "It's not like I was _planning_ on asking you or anything like that."

It was quite obvious that _was_ what Arthur was planning. Why couldn't the Arthur _he_ had to deal with on a daily basis be this easy to read? He used to know everything about Arthur, could read him like a book, but lately they've been so distant and he's been so closed off-

And suddenly Alfred realized, he _did_ want this kind of relationship with Arthur, where they were open with each other, the exact opposite of the relationship they had now. He wanted a relationship with this Arthur, who he could understand even if he didn't say exactly what he meant, that cared about his thoughts and feelings, an Arthur who didn't look at him with hatred and disappointment in every glare.

"I, gotta go," he stood up to leave. He couldn't, _wouldn't_ break them up just because he was confused about what to do with his Arthur.

"Wait, Alfred," Arthur grabbed his wrist as he tried to make a break for it, "We said, we _promised_ that we would talk these things out, not just run away anymore."

"I'm sorry, I just, really need to go now."

"What's wrong with you Alfred?" Arthur's grip on his wrist tightened, "You're acting a bit off, your voice is a bit different, you definitely _are_ shorter…"

"I-it's nothing, really," he tried tugging his wrist away, but Arthur's hold was like steel, cold and unflinching.

"It's obviously _something_ , unless…" his eyes went wide and his grip became painful as he stood up as well, "I see. Let's step outside so we don't make a scene."

Alfred, not having much of a choice, followed him outside, where Arthur immediately turned on him.

"Matthew, why are you pretending to be your brother? Did Gilbert put you up to this?" If Alfred thought his Arthur's glare could bore holes into his head, then the ten or so years this Arthur had spent perfecting it could cause his head to explode.

"I, what? I'm not Matt-"

" _Please_ don't lie to me Matthew. Was it Francis then? Or perhaps both?"

"I don't even know who Francis _is_ so-"

"Your lies are becoming even more obvious, and I think that-" Alfred never found out what Arthur was thinking, however, as his cell phone interrupted. Without taking his eyes off Alfred, Arthur reached into his pocket, brought out his phone, slid his thumb across the screen, and put it against his ear, "Hello? Alfred! Yes, your brother is trying to pass himself off as you again…" his eyes widened as he turned away from Alfred, still holding onto his wrist, "Wait, slow down, you're not making sense… Love, I can't understand you when you talk science… Alright, yes, I'll bring him home," a soft look was in his eyes as he whispered back a "Love you too," as he tapped the screen, pocketed his phone, and glared at Alfred again.

"Well whoever you are, let's see why my boyfriend wants you in his lab, shall we?"

* * *

"Arthur, can you hand me that thing?"

Arthur glanced over at the worktable that Alfred vaguely gestured at, where several objects that could be classified as things were strewn about, "You'll have to be more specific. What thing?"

"That thing," Alfred didn't take his eyes off his time machine as he waved over at the table again, "You know, the thing."

He looked over at the table again and picked up what looked like a rocket powered spoon with extra heads and settings, "This?"

Alfred peeked up over the time machine he was repairing and shook his head before diving right back in, "No, not that thing, the other thing."

Arthur grabbed the tool next to it, "You mean this thing?"

"Yeah that's it," he held out his hand for it.

"You mean the _screwdriver_?"

"Yeah, hand it here." Arthur slammed it into his hand with more force than necessary, "Thanks, Sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," he scowled as he crossed his arms, "And everything would go more smoothly if you just called tools by their names."

"You knew what I meant," he waved off his concerns. Arthur was about to protest that he did _not_ know what he meant, that was the point, but at that moment Alfred let out a triumphant cheer and stepped away from his machine, "Done, I fixed it!"

"Fixed what?" Arthur and Alfred turned to see that Alfred and Arthur had just entered the lab. Future-Arthur caught sight of his past counterpart, stopped and stared, "Alfred…what the hell is going on?"

"Arthur!" Alfred bounded over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss, "So guess what? My time machine worked!"

"Seeing as _we_ were the ones who traveled through time, I think it was _my_ time machine that worked," the other Alfred said with a huff.

"Our time machine, whatever, oh!" he walked over to the other Alfred and grabbed his wrist, guiding him over to the workbench where he had the time machine set up, "You need to tell me what formula you used, what calibration you set it too…"

"Can someone please explain to me," the older Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Why there are two of us here?"

"I told you, the time machine worked!" future-Alfred grinned as his past self scribbled down something in his notes, a grin on his face as well, "Not quite in the way I wanted it to, but it did work! See, me and my past self here ended up setting up a time loop between our two machines, so they," he pointed between the Alfred scribbling notes and the Arthur scowling next to him, "are us from high school, my sophomore year, is that right?" Alfred and Arthur nodded, "Yeah and the time loop we created sent them here. Isn't that cool?"

"How?" future-Arthur asked his boyfriend, "Why? How?"

"I see you're a bit confused," future-Alfred ripped out a piece of paper from the side of the notebook Alfred wasn't scrawling in and waved his sweetheart over, "The time machine exists in two points on our timeline," he drew a line with two points on opposite ends to demonstrate, "Since I used the same exact formula and calibration at both points, they were able to connect and create a time loop between the two points," a circle was drawn to connect the two points, "They were dragged through the time loop to here, and they would have probably just been dragged back again, no harm done, but the machines were overwhelmed and exploded, ending the loop and stranding them here. That awesome or what?"

"No, it's not 'awesome,'" future-Arthur's eyes went wide as realization hit him, "Don't you see? If we get stuck here in high school, everything that's happened since then never happened!"

"Including me setting up a receiving point for the time loop, which would mean there never _was_ a time loop for us to get lost in, thus creating a time paradox, which is bad. So instead of that, we're going to send them – us, back."

"But…" he stared at the work table full of future-Alfred's gizmos, "the time machine exploded…"

"So I fixed it," he gave his machine an affectionate pat, "As soon as Little Me is done with his calculations, we can get this show on the road."

"So it was the high school version of you all along..." future-Arthur sighed as everything finally started to set in and ruffled his hair, "that, actually makes a lot of sense."

"Was Little Me mean to you?" future-Alfred smirked, "Hopefully he'll grow out of it someday."

"Git," both Arthurs said, the older one with a smile, the younger with a scowl, while Alfred scribbled with a bit more force than necessary

"I mean, I figured out it wasn't quite you pretty quickly," future-Alfred blushed and scratched the back of his neck, "Not that, he's not you, but, well, you know what I mean," he grinned, cheeks still red, "You didn't do anything embarrassing like ask him to marry you did you?"

Alfred and Arthur grew uncomfortable and fidgeted as future-Arthur blushed and stuttered, "N-no, of course not, idiot," his hand found its way into his jacket pocket, "why would I do something like that?"

"Done," Alfred slammed his pencil on the table, cutting off whatever his future counterpart was going to say, "If you two are done being gross and stuff, maybe we can get going."

"Awesome," future-Alfred snatched the notebook away and leafed through it, "I was right! We did use the same formula!" he nodded towards the clothes in the corner of the room, "You should change back into your uniform so we can get you guys home." Alfred went to do that, stopping only to glare at the Arthurs, making his future self chuckle, "Relax, it's nothing they haven't seen before," Alfred's face went red, but he continued to change in silence.

"Now that you know your blasted machine works, to some degree," future-Arthur shuffled and leaned against the same work bench his past self was, "how long are you going to spend looking for the correct formula to accomplish your goal?"

"That probably won't be necessary," future-Alfred shrugged, "If I fix the machine, I can just use the time loop formula to get the desired result."

"Oh, I get it!" Alfred shouted from where he was working on putting on his belt, "By setting up multiple points in the time loop, we can just travel between them!"

Both Arthurs gave a flat "What?" as Alfred hurried to button up his shirt and future-Alfred started doodling on the scrap paper.

"See, we know _this_ formula can set up a time loop as long as it has another receiving point somewhere else in time," Alfred explained as he tied his tie, "so whenever we set up the machine in the future, we can use the same formula and add that point to the loop."

"Like this," future-Alfred showed them the diagram; he added more dots to the previous line, and interconnected them all with various circles, "All we need to do is figure out how the build the machine so it doesn't explode and make it so we can select a specific point in the loop to travel to."

The two Alfreds smiled, expecting praise for their genius, no doubt. Future-Arthur eyed the diagram some more while Arthur focused his attention on future-Alfred and stated, "But our point exploded. I doubt we can even us it again…"

"This is _time travel,_ Art," Alfred rolled his eyes, "It doesn't matter that it exploded; it still existed at some point and was able to set up a point in the loop to get us here. We'll go back to just before it exploded."

"Yes, because I _really_ want to end up in a room with an exploding time machine."

"If you're going to be setting all of these points in the future," future-Arthur cut off Alfred's response, "how do you know they will be sent back to the one they set in high school? What if they end up even further into the future?"

"Yeah, that's a possibility," future-Alfred scratched the back of his head and glanced between Alfred and Arthur, "I'm guessing that since I can't pick a point, you'll just go to the closet point on the time line. If that happens, you'll just have to keep going forward until I've figured out how to pick the point. Don' worry, I'm sure I'll do it eventually."

"How do you know it won't take us with them, Darling?" future-Arthur looked away from the diagram and into his lover's eyes, "Just because we didn't go anywhere the first time doesn't mean we won't now, if you don't know why."

"Oh," future-Alfred frowned and thought about it, "uh…"

"You two are wearing watches," Alfred noticed, "Art and I aren't. Since watches are time keepers, maybe they're what kept you anchored to your time?"

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes, "That is a completely ridiculous notion and you should feel bad for thinking it."

Alfred ground his teeth and snapped, "Let's hear what _you_ think then, since you apparently know everything!"

" _I'm_ not supposed to be the genius scientist, remember?"

"Well you-"

"I like it," future-Alfred interrupted, "Yeah, because watches were created as a way to control and understand time, and what we're trying to do here is basically let it loose. I suppose with that theory something like a sundial could be used as an anchor too…"

"There's no scientific basis or backing for your 'theory,'" future-Arthur crossed his arms as he protested, "just a clever play on words."

"I know how much you love your plays on words though."

Future-Arthur frowned, a slight blush creeping along his cheeks, "I'm no scientist. My preferences should _not_ form the backbone of a scientific theory."

"But I am a scientist, and I like that theory," he grinned, and it sent dread and a shiver through both Arthurs, "Well, the only way to prove a theory is to test it," he went to the machine and placed his hand on the switch, but hesitated at the last second, "Arthur, uh, it's probably going to explode again right after they leave, so-"

"If you think I'm going to leave you alone in a room with an exploding time machine, Alfred Jones, you are sorely mistaken," he grabbed his hand and looked around the lab, eyes landing on the same metal box Arthur and Alfred first appeared behind, "We'll hide behind that after you flip the switch."

"You should hide behind there now," he smiled, "I'll join you after."

"We'll go _together_ ," he tightened his grip around his hand.

Future-Alfred sighted in defeat, "Fine. You know I love you right?"

"I know. I love you too," he leaned in and kissed him soft and tenderly.

Arthur felt that longing tug at his heart again as he watched them interact and love each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Alfred looking at him, unreadable expression on his face.

"Enough of this lovey-dovey crap," Alfred said after a long moment of kisses exchanged between the two, "Can we just go home already?"

"Someone's eager to leave," his future counterpart chuckled as he wrapped an arm around his love's waist.

Alfred lowered his head, hiding his eyes behind his bangs, and muttered, "I just…want to go back and fix this future, is all."

This time it was future-Arthur's turn to chuckle, "My dear idiot, when the time comes to 'change' this future, it's not your choice to make," he looked right into Arthur's eyes and smiled, radiating pure happiness, "It's yours."

"Alright! Everyone in your time traveling or running and ducking positions," future-Alfred announced. "Here we go!" was all the warning everyone got before he flipped the switch.

* * *

Alfred woke up on the floor of the science lab with a massive headache and an angry Arthur looming over him.

"Look at what you idiocy has done now," he snapped, as Alfred sat up. All of the beakers that had been out on the tables and most of the windows and been shattered in the explosion, but Alfred didn't have time to be impressed with himself, "Do you know how much it's going to cost to fix and replace everything?"

While Arthur ranted about costs and retributions, Alfred was trying to remember. The time machine had worked, hadn't it? He saw his future, his future with Arthur, where they were together, and it was… nice. They were happy.

"Are you listening to me idiot?" Arthur snapped, drawing Alfred's attention to him, "If you bring me down with you because of this there will be hell to pay!"

That must a have been a dream, he decided, a pleasant dream, but a dream. No, not a pleasant dream. The explosion must have been messing with his mind. No dream where he and Arthur were _together_ like that could have been pleasant. It must have been a nightmare. And yet…

"Are you okay?" he asked out of nowhere, silencing Arthur mid-rant.

"Oh, well," he grabbed his arm and looked away "Aside from a slight headache, yes, I'm fine. You?"

"Yeah," he rubbed his head, "I'm alright."

"Good," Arthur's glare could probably have peeled paint, Alfred barely noticed it, "then nothing will hinder you as you spend every day after school next week cleaning this mess and the mess in all of the other science labs up."

"What, but, Art…"

"No buts," his glare intensified, if that was possible, "And how many times to I have to tell you not to shorten my name?" he scowled as he carefully made his way around the glass to the door, "I expect you back here right after school on Monday. I suggest you find a usable broom," and with that he left.

Alfred stood up, careful to avoid the glass. No, he and Arthur together was in no way _pleasant_. And yet… he couldn't help that feeling of longing that stirred in his heart as he watched Arthur leave.

* * *

"Did it work? Are they gone?" Arthur asked as the dust from the explosion started to clear.

Alfred peeked out over the top of the box, "Yeah, they're gone," and settled back down as Arthur wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"But did they make it back okay?" he leaned his head on Alfred's shoulder.

"Well we're still here, and nothing's changed," he draped an arm around Arthur's shoulders and squeezed, "I'm thinking they're just fine."

"Prat," Arthur snuggled closer to him, hugging his middle tighter, "It was strange, seeing them. Shows how far we've come I suppose."

"Yeah," Alfred exhaled into his hair, breathing in a scent of tea, rain, books, and lavender that was uniquely Arthur. After a short pause, face still buried in Arthur's hair, he said, "Uh, about what we were talking about last night…"

"You don't," he stiffened and burrowed further into Alfred's chest, "its fine. It's not like I actually _meant_ -"

"Yes," Alfred held his love tighter, as if he was afraid he'd bolt any second, "If you were to ask, my answer would be yes."

"I-is that so?" Arthur shifted his head so his face was facing away from Alfred and reached his hand into his pocket, grasping the ring box that was there, "Then, love, I have a question for you…"

* * *

Arthur checked his phone again as he stared at the door to the roof. The text he had gotten from Alfred during lunch was still there, inviting him up to the roof. True, he hadn't been as horrible to him as of late, but there was only so long he could keep up this charade of actually caring about Arthur. He was probably only calling him up to make fun of him or something along those lines. Still…

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, completely unprepared for the sight on the other side.

Alfred had set up an elaborate picnic, right there on the roof, and had even gone so far as to have the whole thing lined with roses.

"You like?" Alfred, sitting in the center of the blanket, smiled a bit shy and very unlike him, "I had the kids in the Gardening Club help with the roses. They're your favorite right?"

"It's, nice," he raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Why all the trouble?"

"It gives it a more authentic English touch."

"And what on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Alfred just laughed in response and patted the empty space next to him, "Come one. I made you tea, or tried to make you tea. Drink it before it gets cold."

Seeing no reason to object other than the obvious fact that he was up to something, Arthur complied. The tea, surprisingly enough, wasn't that bad.

The two of them talked and ate for what must have been hours. It was relaxing, just the two of them, no pressures from school or parents or peers, and if he had wanted to, Arthur could let go of the past few years and pretend that nothing had happened between the two of them, that they were still best friends and nobody else mattered.

"Arthur," Alfred got his attention, gaze unwavering even as the blush appeared on his cheeks, "I, uh, I wanted to ask you something…"

And here it was. It was one of Alfred's more elaborate schemes to get funding for whatever pet project he was cooking up now. In the end, that's all Arthur was to him now, a giant wallet. It always came back to money.

"I know, ever since I got to high school, I've been a bit mean to you-"

"I'd use the word prick, but point taken."

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his head and looked away for a bit before finding Arthur's eyes again, "and I'm sorry about that. You didn't deserve it. I was just, confused, I guess, about how I feel about you, but I've been working it all out, and, and I realized something.

Arthur Kirkland, I like you. Like, like you like you. I like you a lot more than a friend, because you, you're my everything. And I should have realized it sooner but I was just…"

"Confused?" Arthur suggested, his face heating up as well while he soaked in his words.

Alfred nodded, "Y-yeah. I'd like to start _that_ kind of relationship with you, if you'd give me the chance. I know I don't deserve it after the way I've treated you, and you probably don't even think about me in that way," he leaned back on his hands and stared resolutely at the concrete roof, "Still, I, I wanted to ask, just in case."

Arthur couldn't believe it. After all this time, Alfred still cared about him, and it seemed his feelings had even grown. But in the end it was all for naught. Arthur had promised himself that he wouldn't trust his heart to anyone again, especially not Alfred, who had already had it and broken it. He couldn't, wouldn't give him the chance to do so again.

And yet… Alfred smiling at him, a genuine smile on his face, them together and Alfred loving him, these images, brief glimpses of a dream about the future Arthur couldn't fully recall, were in Arthur's mind. What would happen if he gave Alfred this chance? Could they possibly be happy together if he let them?

"Yes, I mean," he cleared his throat, "We could, try that, if you want. See what happens."

The smile on Alfred's face as he hugged him so tight erased any doubts in Arthur's mind.

This could work.


End file.
